


heights of fancy

by bog gremlin (tomatocages)



Series: trope bingo fills [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Partners to Lovers, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:08:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27525898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomatocages/pseuds/bog%20gremlin
Summary: Everyone assumes Keith, a lowly chorus member, holds a grudge against Shiro, the Garrison’s principal dancer, but Keith’s never even talked to Shiro.Until Shiro asks Keith to be his partner.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: trope bingo fills [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679653
Comments: 39
Kudos: 233





	heights of fancy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kenda1L](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenda1L/gifts).



> Trope Bingo prompt O2: We are rivals and i will never like you ever (this is a lie)  
> Requested by [@kenda1l1](https://twitter.com/kenda1l1). 
> 
> Do I know anything about dance? Certainly not from personal experience!

Everyone assumes Keith holds a grudge against the Garrison Ballet Academy’s principal male dancer, but the truth is much less interesting. Keith doesn’t care what some rich guy with a personal trainer and a nutritionist gets up to, so long as he remembers to clean up his gear from the dance studio before Keith’s reserved timeslot. Holding a grudge against the guy who always gets cast in lead roles and signed on for lucrative contracts would like getting angry at God; Keith doesn’t have the energy for that, or the time. He can barely squeeze in his classes and practice time as it is, because he’s also working the day shift at a daycare cooperative. 

Besides, Keith’s seen Takashi Shirogane dance. It’s impossible to resent him, because Shiro moves with so much power and surprising flexibility. Keith once saw Shiro do a grade jete without any warm up, right out in the courtyard. He was probably just fucking around, the way he’d looked when he’d been in the air had been transcendent, like someone had reached down and given Shiro a set of wings, because it was a shame for him to wear his feet out just walking across the grass. 

Keith doesn’t dance like that. He  _ can’t; _ he’s not short, but he’s slighter than he really should be if he wants to get any big roles. He can lift his partners just fine, but even he can’t disagree with the studio’s decision to keep Keith in the chorus. Just because he can lift a taller dancer doesn’t mean it looks good on the stage. It’s the reason the other chorus members assume that Keith resents the star talent in the company — being a male chorus dancer isn’t shameful, in Keith’s opinion, but society and the dance world don’t see eye-to-eye with him on this one. Male dancers are supposed to be powerful, hypermasculine, athletic. Keith is — willowy is one term for it, and he wears his long hair in a severe bun just like all the other ballerinas in the chorus.

Keith’s not in it for the money or the prestige, even if he can admit that would be nice to have. He just wants to dance. It’s worth the aching joints and the battered feet and the three roommates he has to live with if he wants to afford anything like a healthy diet. Keith doesn’t have  _ time _ to resent Shiro’s place in the Academy.

Still, it would be nice if Shiro would at least remember his goddamn gym bag before leaving the studio for the night. Keith doesn’t kick it aside or anything petty. When he hefts it to the side of the room, he’s glad he didn’t even consider kicking it, because it must have books or bricks inside; Keith would have broken a toe for sure, which would have been an amazing addition to a shitty and long-winded Thursday night.

Keith warms up. After his stretches he fools around a little, to shake off the bad mood he’s been living in: he dances a loose interpretation of Allura Alforsson’s solo from the upcoming showcase. Her choreography is always fun and a little demanding; Keith can only manage it because he’s sixty-five percent leg and crazy flexible. Most male dancers wouldn’t even attempt it. 

That’s why he doesn’t hear the rehearsal room door open, or hear Shiro catch his breath when he walks in and sees Keith in mid-spin. Keith doesn’t notice that he’s got an audience until he’s finished the first part of the choreo, up to the point where Allura’s solo ends and the steps segue into a duet with Shiro. But there Shiro is, hand outstretched, like he’s offering to complete the piece.

And because Keith is warmed up and the lilting steps of Allura’s dance have shaken off his terrible mood, he accepts Shiro’s hand and lets himself be flung upwards into the most exhilarating lift Keith’s experienced since he was small enough for his father to toss him in the air. Shiro’s strong, and the movement is so practiced and natural that it makes sense for Keith to keep the necessary, contradictory rigid relaxation in his spine, to rise up and then fall back into Shiro’s arms for the next sequence of steps. It’s ridiculous, and difficult, and  _ fun _ . Keith doesn't know how Allura manages to keep a serious look on her face when she’s performing, because partner work is an incandescent joy to dance through. Keith’s used to being the stationary object around which his partner dances; the opposite is bone-deep exhilaration. 

They finish the sequence and part. Keith’s breathing hard and Shiro’s big chest is pumping like a bellows.

“Hi,” Shiro says, offering a little wave. It’s helplessly dorky. “I’m — Takashi Shirogane, I’m — ”

“I know who you are,” Keith says, not unkindly. “Keith.”

“Yeah, I know,” Shiro says. “I’ve been watching you. You’re something else. It took me forever to figure out which practice room you usually sign up for, Pidge was really cagey about telling me. I had to stake you out.”

Keith feels like he should be offended or alarmed, but he’s just endeared. “Well, you caught me,” he says, and does a little pirouette. “Feel like I should be thanking you, that’s the most fun I’ve had since I went on pointe.” 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” Shiro says. “You’re something else.” He slides down into a crouch on the floor, then lowers himself into a splits, leaning forward on his palms. Even though he’s already warmed up, Keith slips down to mirror him and set his heels against Shiro’s, so they can stretch in a partnered v-sit. Usually Keith does this against a mirror: bracing against Shiro is another stretch entirely, one that radiates up his calves and thighs as Shiro pushes back against him. 

“I know I’m good,” Keith says matter-of-factly. “I’m not showy, but I know what I’m doing. So why’s a guy like you checking in on a chorus dancer like me?”

“It’s a secret,” Shiro says. “But: Allura’s leaving the company before the premiere. She got some big offer, I didn’t actually listen to the details because as soon as she said something I knew I had to find a new partner.”

“And you thought of me?” Keith raises a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Not at first,” Shiro concedes. “But I was running through audition reels on my phone and I saw you check in to work through some stuff with Reg from the Marmora studio. You’ve got a look, you know? So I watched you instead of the film.”

Keith remembers the night. He was dancing with Regris and had to pick up the female part of the duet in about fifteen minutes so Regris could practice throwing a partner around. He’d offered to cover Keith’s dinner in return for the favor, and since Keith was short on grocery money for the week, he’d agreed on the condition that they go to the delicatessen three blocks away from the studio. That place sold bagel sandwiches bigger than Keith’s face. 

“Wasn’t at my best that night,” Keith says. He’d been half-assing his own steps in favor of mimicking Regris’ distinctive, heavy tread and over-reliance on core strength instead of flexibility. Most of the session was just a big goof-off, and it was probably only happening because Regris had seen how much weight Keith had dropped — weight Keith couldn’t really afford to spare — and figured framing it as a favor would make the meal more palatable. 

“No,” Shiro says. “But you’re good. You’re fast and you have good instincts — the way you navigated the flip Regris threw you into, when he got too much height under your leg? The way you recovered was fantastic. I started going through your academy reels.”

“Yikes.” Keith knows what Shiro saw if he looked through the reels: footage of Keith performing mostly in line with the other chorus members and too many clips of him getting bored and extemporizing steps of his own, or embellishing the principal dancers’ choreo. Nothing incriminating, but nothing to write home about. 

“You don’t get it,” Shiro says. He tightens his grip on Keith’s hands, winding their fingers together and finally letting up on the pressure he’s put on the v-sit. Keith’s groin muscles ache as soon as the strain lets up, the way they always do after a good stretch. “You’re amazing. I want to dance with you — I want you to take Allura’s part in the upcoming recital. You know the steps, I know I can lift you, and your lines are  _ beautiful.  _ It’d be a waste if I didn’t ask you to dance with me.”

Keith has always prided himself on his independent streak. But there’s something deeply earnest about Shiro in that moment; it’s enough to convince Keith to agree, even if he’s not quite sure what Shiro’s getting out of it. If Keith takes on Allura’s role for the performance, it means more exposure for Keith — and the increased visibility means that he might have a shot of making this into a career for as long as he’s got until his knees give out. 

“All right,” Keith says. “Let’s dance.”

+++

The next few weeks are a blur. Keith doesn’t know how he manages to stay on top of his schoolwork  _ and _ his job  _ and _ add extra hours at the studio. It probably helps that Shiro throws himself into the endeavor with just as much energy as he puts into lifting Keith up into the air. Also, he’s taken to bringing dinner for both of them. Keith doesn’t like to accept charity, but Shiro once again phrases this as a favor Keith is doing for Shiro. It’s hard to see how Keith accepting a bespoke meal designed for maximum nutrition absorption is a favor for Shiro, but Hunk — the source of the meals — points out that Shiro can’t do his job if Keith is fainting from hunger. 

“I mean,” Hunk says, “he’s supposed to catch you. But I think that’s because it’s choreographed, not because you’re some kind of fainting Victorian maiden.”

Keith grunts, but he’s markedly less tired after eating a Hunk-created whitefish dish served with a fragrant curry and a composed fruit salad. Keith can do a lot with a bulk bag of lentils and five dollars at the spice co-op in his apartment building, but this is next level. 

Shiro’s trying to prove something. His prosthetic is shiny and shapely, and Keith hopes it’s a sufficient repair for the injuries Shiro sustained in the accident that nearly ended his career a few years back. This is the first partnered performance Shiro has been hired for since the final surgery.

Keith realizes that Shiro keeps the arm covered with a sleeve or a compression wrap unless he and Keith are dancing alone. It’s hard enough being a male dancer without having to contend with what the Academy — what the critics — have to say about your body’s  _ aesthetic _ . 

Keith wonders if it's because Shiro doesn’t feel like the only freak, when they dance together. Keith has his own imperfections and he’s never had the money or the inclination to cover them up. Whoever sees him stripped down to his tights and tank at practice gets to see his funny port wine birthmarks — they’re all over his shoulders and legs — but it’s never been an issue in the chorus. It might be an issue now. He wonders what kind of accommodations the Garrison was willing or not willing to make when Allura was dancing this part. He knows the frustrations she went through just to get the ribbons on her shoes dyed to match her skin. Everyone knows: it’s part of why she went to dance for another company. 

Keith learns he should never doubt Shiro. Not only are Keith’s birthmarks not an issue, but he’s not even instructed to paint over them for the performance. He still wears the heavy greasepaint all over his face, sure, but the rest of his body is about as visible as it’s going to get unless Keith decides to do a strip-tease onstage. The performance is more contemporary than anything else, and that means: briefs, basically, and pointe shoes, and that neither one of them are wearing shirts. That just makes everything harder, because Keith believes that the leotard was invented so dancers could have something to mop up sweat while they performed. He’s even more impressed with Shiro’s grip by the time they get through the end of tech week: he hasn’t dropped Keith once, no matter how many times Keith torpedoes into Shiro’s arms. 

The performance is — an exaltation. Keith has never worked so hard in his life, and the lights burn him from the outside in until he loses sight of his body. All he knows is how to hang in the air, weightless as he leaps into Shiro’s secure grip. Keith doesn’t like to put faith in other people, but he’ll do it for Shiro and he’ll do it gladly.

Afterwards, when he’s wiping himself down in the dressing room, he overhears the gossip.

_ “I was sure Keith would sabotage Shiro out there — just like he must have threatened Allura until she left the company.” _

_ “Keith? Wasn’t he a chorus dancer? Why would Shiro dance with him?” _

_ “His form’s okay, but I’d rather look at Shiro dance alone than have Keith get time on that stage.” _

It’s all the same. Keith thinks about the past few months of practice and all it has given him: a regular evening meal, a shot at a career, an interview with the creative director at an alternative studio downtown.

A friend. 

Someone drops a clean towel over his head and the gossip cuts off. It’s Shiro. Keith knows that Shiro isn’t storming into the dressing room to act as Keith’s white knight; his curtain call is just finished. But having Shiro at his side does make Keith feel like he has reinforcements. The comfort it gives him makes the desire to punch the gossips in the face fall away. 

“Great work out there,” Shiro says. He’s projecting a little louder than he needs to, because that’s Shiro’s way. He’s only showy when it helps someone else. 

“You too,” Keith answers. He fishes around on the counter behind him for a fresh water bottle and tosses it up at Shiro. The sticky greasepaint that costuming slathered onto them before the show is starting to drip off their face in disgusting, half-melted tracks.

_ “Aren’t they rivals or something?”  _ One of the gossips asks the others. 

_ “Shh, Shiro’s looking at us!” _

“Have I convinced you yet?” Shiro asks, accepting the water bottle.

“Of what?” Keith blinks paint out of his eyes and promptly ruins the clean towel by wiping off half his stage makeup. 

“That I’m worth keeping around,” Shiro grins. He scrubs at his own face with another towel before leaning in, placing his prosthetic on the countertop behind Keith’s hip so he can cage him in. He forms a bicep curl with his free arm; the muscle pops obscenely, the same way it did when Shiro manhandled Keith into the air during the climax of their routine. Keith realizes that Shiro’s telegraphing, the way all peacocks do when seeking a mate. “I’ve been trying to ask you out all season, you know.”

“What.”

“Yeah, all season,” Shiro shakes his head. “It was Allura’s idea to ask you to sub in for her once she got the job offer, you know. She was sick of watching me pine.”

Keith doesn’t know what Shiro sees in him, but he knows exactly what he sees in Shiro: muscles, and a kind heart, and a disgusting sense of humor. The total package is utterly likeable and Keith is not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he grabs hold of Shiro’s bare, slippery shoulder and pulls him down for a kiss. 

Just like he does on stage, Shiro reads the cue perfectly. Keith couldn’t ask for a better partner. 


End file.
